


A Star So Bright You Blind

by somepallings



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM-esque, Boss/Employee Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Reader, I don't condone space nazism ok, Morally Ambiguous Character, a bit subby, oh what a sexy mass murderer, worshipful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somepallings/pseuds/somepallings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You work at Starkiller and you have a long-standing arrangement with Brendol Jr. although I'm vague about its exact nature. You know he'll be visiting you after the weapon is fired, that he won't be able to stay away.</p>
<p>I've seen the movie three times now and found Hux's face when the weapon fires to be irresistible. Also an excuse to talk about pale skin and long delicate fingers.</p>
<p>The song containing the lyric that the fic is named for came on my Spotify shuffle and tickled me so much I had to use it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Star So Bright You Blind

He’s making his speech today and all being well the weapon will fire. You don’t have any need or the clearance to be present at the rally, but you’ve got a screen in your quarters and a half-day to take, and you wouldn’t miss this for the world. Any world.

The base has been abuzz with talk, the weapon, the weapon! No real understanding of its capabilities, of course, no real knowledge of the sheer awesome power they were about to witness. You’ve completed your duties for the day and you’re on your way back to your quarters, which are small but certainly nicer than average for Starkiller, above ground even.

In through the door; there’s a place for your hat, so you put it there, and for your shoes and your jacket. You sit and switch on your screen, every channel is showing the same thing: the assembled crowd, the stage, and the flags. The angle is bad but you can hear him perfectly. This is his moment and he’s giving it all he’s got. You know he has a reputation for coldness and lack of emotion, but how anyone could think it listening to him now you’ll never know.

You clasp your hands together in a private display of ecstasy, every part of you thrilling to his words. The final days of the Republic! All systems bowing to the First Order! The fact that you heard him rehearsing this in front of his mirror matters not one jot.

It’s not that you don’t feel sorry for the theoretically innocent people on Hosnian Prime and all those moons, but collaboration is collaboration and you know full well that every one of those Republican resistance-supporting druks would cheer to see Starkiller destroyed, every man jack of its inhabitants, nursery workers, chicken-soup-nozzle-uncloggers and children included. Great sacrifices need to be made in time of war.

The weapon! It’s firing, you can see from your window the red glow on the horizon and hear the faint shrieks from the corridor as the ground below you rumbles and shifts, it’s happening. You stand without really realising you’ve done it. Every muscle strained and tense, your hands at your mouth in balled fists, you squeal and gasp, you can hardly believe it's real, the power beneath your feet, the First Order vindicated!

The camera swings round to try to capture the sheer magnitude of the blast but it’s futile, can’t possibly do it justice, and you switch the screen off, knowing you’ll be able to see the red light in person very soon. 

You know he’ll be here soon, you know it because he won’t be able to stay away after this. You undress and get into bed, closing your eyes with a beatific smile on your face. Both the aims of the glorious First Order and your own selfish desires are coming to fruition.

_Click. Hiss._

The door opens. He’s here. You open your eyes.

“Did you watch?” he asks, approaching the bed. He sits down, taking his boots off. His voice is strained, he doesn’t want to betray how much your answer might mean.

You tell him yes, oh yes. 

He stows his boots neatly at the end of the bed and places his hat on top of them. He stands again and looks at you. You look back at him.

He has the light of a burning sun in his eyes, the power of a star system in conflagration in his gaze. 

**Author's Note:**

> There's a silly reference to Arnold Rimmer in here, because why not, I like uniformed posh boys with ideas above their station. 
> 
> Many thanks to libertyelyot for recommending I give Depeche Mode a listen, chapter titles are from songs off the Violator album.
> 
> Chapter two will happen, I promise.


End file.
